Love blooms on the Battlefield
by sharoman polanski
Summary: Ulfric tries to use the dovakiin's powers to his advantage. what happens when he gets in over his head? Ulfric/OC
1. Chapter 1

Jessica passed through the gates of Windhelm, ignoring the stares of the guards as she passed. Her shiny, black leather boots went up to her thigh, clinging against the gentle curve of her lissome half-elven leg; her fur cape flowed dramatically in the snowy wind, it's front ending in bear paws that crossed around her slim shoulders. She had the athletic body of her Bosmer mother, but also the strength of her imperial father. Faint patches of spotted hair grew from behind her ears down to her neck, showing of her khajiiti ancestry. Her hair looked as though it was on fire, streaks of red and orange cutting through her thick, wavy tresses. Her eyes burned with green light, full of wisdom and intelligence and heroic wizard magic.

Two drunken nords accosted a dunmer peasant to her right; their breath clouding the air in front of them from the cold.

"You come here where you're not wanted," The leader growled, "You eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks."

The Dunmeri stepped back. "But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!"

"Hold up there, nord"

Jessica strode confidently into the heated arguments, hands on her slender hips as she stared down the drunkard.

"I don't like my first impressions of this city to be a drunkard insulting a woman's honor."

The two glared at each other, before the drunk's friend nudged him in the shoulder.

"That elf bitch means business. Let's go."

"That's elf _lady _to you." Jessica's smoldering eyes were like hot fire burning into the nord. "You should be lucky I have an appointment with your king, or else I might have to make an example of you here. Or should I call upon Lord Ulfric to do so?"

The two drunks looked at each other fearfully, stepping back from the angry girl.

"Look, look, I'm sorry. We'll just – we'll be going now." The leader pulled his friend away with him, and they both disappeared down the winding alleyways of Windhelm.

The dark elf lady smiled at her savior. Jessica smiled warmly at her.

"I must be off now, ma'am. I've got a king to see."

Jessica stepped through the threshold of Candlehearth Hall, the oldest castle in Windhelm and the current throne Ulfric Stormcloak sat upon. The true king of Skyrim sat there now, relaxed and as regal as ever. Jessica bowed gracefully at the steps to his seat, her ebony hair falling in her face as she did. The handsome nord chuckled warmly and brushed her hair away from her face.

"It is good to see you again, my king."

"Please dear, you may call me Ulfric if you so wish."

"But my lord," Jessica's heart fluttered, "I can see you as nothing less than my king, I-"

"Shh," Ulfric pressed a rough, manly finger to her delicate pink lips. Standing up, he led the girl over to someplace less open.

Jessica clung to her king, feeling his muscular arms throbbing under his kingly clothes. Ulfric had taken a liking to her ever since she freed him at the dragon attack at Helgen, killing the dragon in a moment of unleashed fury. He was both intrigued and fearful of her power at first, but in time he decided to use it to his advantage. He didn't count on the half-elf-quarter-khajiit to start charming him with her own wiles, however.

"Jessica," Ulfric began, cupping the girl's dainty face in his hand. "We need to keep a low profile now. My men are getting suspicious – they see your ears and fur, and I can only make so many excuses before they find out the truth…"

Jessica frowned. "Why do you let your close-minded, ignorant, unknowledgeable advisors dictate everything you do? Why can't you let them see you for the gentle soul you are, tortured by having to hold up your people's racist standards and archaic beliefs?"

"If I could stop this war I could, but you know I can't because of my reasons."

The girl in his arms was so cute when she was angry. Her eyes flashed a murderous purple, betraying the cute pout she put on for him. The Stormcloak held her tighter, his face close to hers.

"Everything will be alright in time. We just need to be careful, and patient."

"I'm tired of being patient," Jessica's blue eyes stared straight into his. "I wanted to escape this place. I want to marry you and go back to my homeland of Argonia; you'd love it there! There's absolutely no snow."

"I wish I could my beloved." Ulfric's eyes were brimming with sadness droplets. The two stood there for long hours, fused together in passion.

Galmar Stone-fist stood in the doorway, coughing politely to grab their attention. Jessica motioned for him to approach. Nervously, Galmar approached. Ulfric's arm curled around the small of his housecarl's back, pulling him into the shared embrace. Jessica grabbed onto Galmar in turn, smiling as her two beaus locked lips in front of her. They were the perfect couple plus one, and no civil war in Tamriel could pull them apart.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind roared as the dovahkiin rode her silver stallion through Windhelm county, snow painting her dark cloak with white as she bent against the gale. Nary a streak of her silver locks peeked through her hood to reveal the dragonborn to any strangers passing by. Soon she found herself trapped in a strong winter storm, and had to find shelter. But where would she go? As if an answer to her prayers, a light could be seen through the flurries. Jessica urged her horse towards it.

The light belonged to a shoddy little inn, a sign bearing the name 'Inn of Ill Omen". It will do, Jessica thought. She dismounted and rushed in as the wind started to pick up again.

Inside was a decent enough, with a roaring fire at the center of the longhouse, warming her frozen body already.

"Welcome traveler," A old publican hailed her from the bar. "Welcome to the Inn of Ill Omen. I'm Rufio, I run the place. How does it look out there?"

"It's a blizzard out there," Answered Jessica, who took a seat across from him. "I guess I'll be here all night."

"Well, it's only ten gold for a room per night. We've got plenty of food and drink, but that doesn't come with it."

"That's fair." Jessica gave him ten gold for a room, which he pointed her towards. It was a surprisingly nice room, rather large and sporting a double bed. Jessica wasn't sure why she needed a bed so large, but she wasn't about to complain about luxury.

The night was uneventfull, and Jessica relished the comfort of a real bed for once under a roof that didn't leak. it had been a week since she left Winterfell, but in her heart it felt like an eternity since she had last slept in Ulfric's bed. The warmth of the bodies of her two boyfriends was something she definitely could have used now, but for now a swath of furs had to do.

The wind howled outside, making the old building creak ominously and nearby trees rustle heavily in the surrounding woods. Jessica slept soundly in her bed of furs, never noticing the presence that joined her in the room.

The old man Rufio stood before her, his eyes darkened with evil intent as his hand traced along the form of her slumbering face. She was a sound sleeper it seemed, and the lecherous imperial took note of his look as he began to tie her to the bed. In Jessica's dreams, Ulfric was above her, holding her hands up against her head, mirroring what she felt happening to her in the real world. She winced as Ulfric's grip was rougher than she remembered, swatting his hands away out of reflex. The Stormcloak king pushed her hands back with greater force, slamming them against a headboard that wasn't there. Jessica was quickly brought out of the dream, only to look up in horror as in the place of her Ulfric was Rufio, who had lashed her hands fast against the headboard.

Jessica kicked and screamed, but the old man overpowered her. Her short was ripped, and Rufio began to caress her beasts.

Jessica's violet eyes flashed with rage and barely concealed power, and she easily ripped out of the bonds around her wrists. A jolt of lightening flared from her palms, knocking back the man at full force.

"Why does everyone do this!?" The dragonborn shouted at no-one in particular. The air around the both of them crackled, and the old man was already dead, his back bent around a now broken table. The electricity in the air made Jessica's golden hair frizz up, giving her the appearance of a redheaded lion with a wild mane. She looked at her hands in horror as they still crackled with energy.

"You should stay away from me," her voice cracked, "Everyone should just stay away from me."

Jessica quickly gathered her things and left the inn despite the raging blizzard, never to return again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jessica arrived in Winterfell after a two-day ride, exhausted and chilled to the bone. It was warmer in the plains at least, and the farmland-dotted landscape felt less desolate than the frozen forests of the pale. Windhold and its castle Dragonstone loomed in the distance.

Off to the side of the road, Jessica spied a cart with a split wheel, which had rotted from age and wear right in front of a homestead. The driver kicked the dirt in a dramatic display of frustration, occasionally looking back to the cumbersome load his cart bore.

"Do you need a hand, sir?" Jessica hailed him.

The man, a surprisingly short, unkempt and garishly dressed facsimile of a jester, stamped and flourished at his wreck. "Agh! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck, My mother, my poor mother! Unmoving. At rest, but too still!"

Jessica dismounted from her grey mare curtly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead." The jester giggled quietly, a wide smile spread across his handsome features. "I'm taking mother to a new home, A new crypt. But... aggh! Wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel! It broke! Don't you see?"

"I do see. Have you tied talking to the farmer up ahead?"

"I did, I did! But farmer Loreius won't dare to help poor Cicero, Loreius thinks poor Cicero is 'suspicious'!"

Jessica eyed the giant crate which supposedly contained the man's mother. "Don't worry sir, I can convince him otherwise."

Cicero's gorgeous blue eyes sparkled. He drew the dovakin into a sudden tight hug. "Ooh thank you, thank you! Cicero will reward you well, so well!"

"Its nothing, I'm just trying to help." The flaxen-haired beauty smiled, showing off khajit fangs.

Jessica entered the Lorieus farm, greeting the Loreius. He leered at her, and she blushed.

"Cicero needs help with his cart," Said Jessica.

"Cicero is obviously some kind of serial killer, I'm not letting him anywhere near me." Said Loreius.

"But it's the neiborly thing to do!" Jessica put on the cutest pout she could muster. Loreius's heart grew three sizes that day.

"alright, fine." The man sighed. "But if he kills me for fun, its your fault."

"you can haunt me if you like." Jessica grinned. Loreius blushed In the prescence of the lovely lady.

Jessica returned to the broken cart, all smiles.

"I did it!" she said.

Cicero jumped with joy and started to dance. "Oh thank you, thank you thank you! Cicero is so happy, please accept this gold."

The jester held out a coin purse. Jessica reached out for it only for him to grab her wrist, and pull her into a quick kiss.

Jessica's heart hammered in her chest. "Oh! Why, thank you sir! But, sorry I'm taken…"

That's alright," Cicero winked at her. "Cicero is pansexual!"

They kissed again, but Jessica saw that it was getting dark. She had to get to Wintefel!

"Im sorry, but I need to go. Jessica made towards her horse.

Don't be a stranger, handsome" Cicero called out, and watched her ride out into the night.

Jessica's night vision made it easy to see at nigh, her catlike green eyes glowing in the dark. She saw Dragonstone castle in the distance. She would go there and talk to the yarl by first thing in the morning, if she was lucky.


End file.
